Painful Growing Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Growing up is painful, there are no directions to point
the way.

Spinning crazily like a magnet in the north pole, life
gyrates without control.

Trying to head in every direction at once, ending up
standing still, for there are no cures, no remedies for
growing up.

Each day begins anew, each day we fill a brand new cup,
there are no set rules from A to B.

Everyone tries haphazardly to keep themselves alive,
amidst all the noise and craziness, yet there's not a
soul with answers to questions of maturity.

We all strive for this something we call growing up, yet
we know little or nothing about it.

How can we be so naïve, trying to attain an impossibility
while making every attempt to live our lives?